


Unanswered Questions

by Frolmes



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 08:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18245810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frolmes/pseuds/Frolmes
Summary: The reader and Tom meets again after three years for one meal and a lot of unanswered questions.





	Unanswered Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is my first ever Tom Hiddleston-fanfic.  
> Please let me know what you think ^^  
> Thank you for reading!

The past three years had been pure hell. You had lost your job as secretary for an important businesswoman, you had been thrown out of your apartment, and finally, Tom had left you.  
You had been a mess, an absolute mess, crying instead of making food or applying for jobs, and you lost contact with all of your friends, just because they didn’t understand.  
Instead of getting a new apartment right away, you stayed with your mum. You couldn’t even afford a place in London because of losing your job, and you didn’t have the energy to find a new job – or move on from him.  
Really, it was rather pathetic, you thought, but you slowly fell into depression, and you just couldn’t claw your way back to your normal, happy self. It had all been destroyed.

You looked in the mirror, brushed away a few tears. The bags under your eyes had come back, and you hated it.  
It had been three years, and you had finally gotten your life back. You had new friends who cared about you, you had a great job, and you had gotten a new, bigger apartment. Finally, you had gotten that sense of worth back, the feeling that life wasn’t that bad. That’s when he called you: Tom.  
You had been taken by surprise, seeing his name on your screen. You still had his number saved in your phone: You couldn’t bring yourself to delete it. You weren’t as heartless as he was.  
You put on your lipstick, slowly as to not mess up. You brushed away new, fresh tears.  
He had sounded so careless on the phone, like nothing ever happened.  
“Hello, love,” he had said.  
You hadn’t answered right away, so he had continued:  
“Do you want to eat dinner with me? Thursday at seven.”  
Barely had you had time to answer when he continued that he’d pick you up at six thirty. How he’d gotten your address was a mystery, but you didn’t have time to complain before he hung up.  
That’s how you got yourself a dinner-date with Tom Hiddleston, three years after your breakup. You were scared out of your mind to see him again.

Time went by. You put on a long, red dress, silver shoes, and just a few pieces of jewellery to top off the outfit. You chose to forget that the red dress was Toms favourite dress of yours. You didn’t put on a full face of makeup, just mascara and a nude lipstick – you didn’t have the time for more. Looking in the mirror, you didn’t see anything but a scared, fragile woman. What if he just wanted to take you to dinner so he could humiliate you? All the bad thoughts piled up in your head, and you had hold tears back. Oh, how close you were to cancelling, but you couldn’t: You needed to see him one last time, to get answers.  
You glanced at the clock; twenty minutes past six. He would be there in ten minutes, and you were not ready. Shaking with nerves, you made yourself a cup of coffee, drank it so fast it burned your tongue, but you didn’t care. You were gonna see Tom again, and you didn’t know whether you were happy or sad, angry or scared.  
Was he scared?  
You were pouring yourself another cup of coffee when the buzzer to your apartment rang. Just like that you froze to the ground for a good three seconds before hurrying to the buzzer.  
“Come in,” your voice shaking, you buzzed him in.  
Throw up: You felt as if you were gonna throw up as you waited for him to come up to your apartment. You had a little time, because it was on the third floor, but then there was a knock on the door, and you actually worried a bit about your health.  
You opened the door.  
“Hello, love,” his voice almost a whisper.  
And there he was. He was still as beautiful as three years ago. The time had done him well, his hair slightly longer and a little curly at the end, and a short beard. He wore his eyeglasses, which made him look even sexier. For just a second, you forgot how to breathe, but then you got control over your body and your thoughts.  
“Hi, Tom,” you said, cold as stone, hiding every feeling under the surface.  
You stood there for a moment, not knowing whether to invite him in or just stand there.  
“So …,” he said, “Are you ready to go?”  
Without saying a word, you took your jacket and your purse and followed him to his car.

The whole car ride was basically silent, except for some “How have you been”s and smalltalk. You hated it, hated it because these car rides used to be fille with talk and laughter – and love. All the love you shared was gone, and you were left with the painful memories of all the little kisses and “I love you”s that you knew you would never get back again. Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you still held that love for Tom, and therefore it hurt knowing he was so close, but yet so far away. You missed him still, but never would tell him, not just because it would be embarrassing, but also because you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You only allowed yourself to think about him at night, when there was no one to see your tears. But it was alright. You got through it, you moved on, even though you still loved him, and even when you still missed him, you lived your life to the fullest, not still spending every moment thinking of him.

Finally, you arrived at the restaurant, smiling weakly at Tom as he opened the car door for you. Silence, still, as you entered the restaurant and found your way to the waiter assigned to taking in new guests.  
The restaurant was definitely fancy, only a place that Tom would be able to afford. You couldn’t ever. This was the kind of place he had used to take you, back when you were dating, back when you were in love. The whole restaurant was a warm, calm purple colour, keeping a colour scheme of white, purple, black and yellow, and the tables were spread around the huge room with a high roof.  
You were speechless, but not that speechless, cause you’d seen it all before, such a long time ago that you had almost forgotten. Like it was another life.  
“Hello, sir, do you have a reservation?” the waiter smiled kindly at you both.  
“Hiddleston,” Tom said.  
Taken aback by the restaurant, you looked around as the waiter found your table, perfectly placed in a corner. It was best that way, cause you knew you would cry sometime during the night. You were already on the brink of it.  
The chair was pulled out for you by Tom, earning him yet another weak smile. You took off your jacket and placed it on the chair, your purse hanging off the chair as well. He sat down in front of you, his face lit up by the candle on the table. Breadsticks were also placed on the table, but you didn’t feel hungry. You felt sick to your stomach instead.  
“So,” he said.  
“So,” you repeated.  
He seemed to look for the right words, fumbling after the right sentence to say, your stone face scaring him a bit.  
“So,” he said again, “you’re probably wondering why I invited you to dinner.”You didn’t know exactly what to say. You licked your lips.  
“Yes,” you ended up saying, cause nothing else you could’ve said felt like quite enough.  
He fumbled with his hands, not looking you in the eye. That was quite alright, cause you might’ve melted right there on the spot if he even tried eye contact.  
“Listen, I just …,” he sounded thoughtful, and he didn’t continue the sentence.  
Anger crept over you, and you leaned back in the chair, ready for his next words, but they didn’t come.  
“Oh, what? You just wanted to invite me to dinner three years after you left so horribly, which made me feel a little worthless? So you can embarrass me? Make me feel not good enough again? Oh, that’s just dainty, ain’t it?” you said, the anger taking over.  
You blinked away tears, and Tom leaned a little towards you in his seat.  
“No, I didn’t. I invited you because I regret the way I left. I asked you to dinner because I owe you some answers,” he finally said, finally meeting your stare.  
“Are you ready to order?” you had to force your eyes away from Tom to look at the waiter.  
Without missing a beat, Tom ordered your favourite(risotto) for you, and chicken for himself. The waiter took your orders and then disappeared.  
“Fine,” you said, “then tell me: Why did you leave me?”  
Tom leaned back in his seat, looking both troubled and hurt, as if the memories were as painful to him as you.  
“I couldn’t stay,” he said. You waited for an explanation, but it never came.  
“Why couldn’t you stay?”  
He licked his lips, tilting his head.“Because I realised … Because I realised how much I loved you, and how scared I was that you would leave. So, idiot that I am, I left first, so that I wouldn’t get hurt,” he paused.  
You were about to say something, when he continued.  
“I didn’t stop loving you. It hurt me so much I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t focus on my work. It was a living Hell. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how broken I was,” he said, and you snorted when he said you didn’t understand.  
“You’re totally right, I was fine without you, it was all one big party,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your voice  
He smiled apologetically.  
“I’m sorry, my love. But you know me and my pride, I couldn’t just call you up and beg you to take me back, cause what if you had moved on? It haunted me every day and night. You were all I could think about.”  
He seemed so sad, but you showed no mercy.  
“So you just thought about me for three years? Without ever doing anything about it?” you asked.  
He nodded, sadness and hurt on his face.  
“I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I went to Africa to work with under-privileged kids. But still, you stayed on my mind, and I went home to London to find you. I stood on your doorstep, but you never answered, and I couldn’t bring myself to go back and try finding you again,” he said, and your heart broke for him, but you didn’t want it to.  
“Sure,” you mumbled.  
It looked like he was about to defend yourself when the waiter came with the food. It looked delicious, but you still felt sick to your stomach. He began eating, and so did you, slowly.  
Time passed, you asking him questions, which he willingly answered.  
“So why didn’t you just stay and talk to me?” you were almost finished with your food.  
He looked at you. His eyes had gone soft.  
“Because you deserved so much better than me. You still do, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore, if I want to be happy,” his words crumbled your heart, but you loved the pain.  
Could you love him again? Hell, you still did, but what was he asking you to do? Get back together? Was that it? You glanced at your watch.  
“Tom, I have to get back, I have an early day tomorrow,” you said. It was a lie.  
You just couldn’t sit here and listen to his confessions, your unanswered questions being answered. You still wanted him, but he could never know. You had already made your decision, and that was to let him go, but here he was, telling you that he had loved you. Did he still? And why was your heart breaking?  
“Can’t you stay for a while? I’m … I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he said, and anger crept up on you.  
Who was he to leave you, then come back, years later, confessing his love for you, and then not be ready to let you go? One evening after three years? To hell with that!  
All your feelings came pouring out. You stood up.  
“You know what, Tom? I’m tired of waiting around for you. I loved you so, so much, and you never even actually cared. If you had loved me, you wouldn’t have left like that. Thanks a lot,” and with those words, you grabbed your jacket and purse and left the restaurant.

You walked as fast as you could, your heels clicking on the ground. Finally, you let your tears fall, and you sobbed as you walked away from the restaurant. And how would you get home? You were far away from home, and you didn’t have your Oyster card on you. Everything was falling apart.  
How could he? How could he sit there with his puppy face, saying he loved you when he had left you. If he had really loved you, he would’ve never left. He had left, though, which made all your hopes fall to the ground.  
Goosebumps formed on your arm, your jacket still in your hand. You cried silently, walking blindly around, when a hand was placed on your arm, spinning you around. A pair of too familiar eyes caught yours.  
He looked miserable, absolutely horrible, a shell of the man he had been in the restaurant. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks red.  
“Tom,” you whispered, your heart, once again, breaking for him.  
He sobbed, but you couldn’t take him in your arms and hold him. That was gone.  
“Y/N,” he whispered, “please don’t leave me. I can’t do it again.”  
And in that moment, you wanted more than anything to stay, and be with him forever. Never again would you feel the hurt of him not being with you.  
“Tom, I …,” you said, crying silently.  
“No, please,” he begged, “I love you more than anything. I never stopped. It was foolish of me to leave you, and I promise that I never will again.”  
You broke away from his hand on your arm.  
“Tom, I can’t do this again,” you whispered.  
You wanted to, more than anything. Especially when his face fell, and he put his face in his hands to sob.  
“Do you know how much you hurt me?” you asked.  
He nodded.  
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and you believed him.  
His gaze fell on you. How could you resist him?  
“I love you,” he mumbled, “I can’t bear the thought of living my life without you.”  
Without thinking about it, you dropped the jacket and purse in your hand, took him in your arms, crashed your lips against his. He tensed, but slowly sank into you, placing his hands on the lower part of your back. Everything in you screamed, screamed to never let him go again, and you knew you wouldn’t.  
He was back, he was in your arms, and he was yours: And you loved him.  
You slowly pulled back. The look in his eyes was everything you needed to know that his was the man with whom you would spend the rest of your life. His eyes were still bloodshot, but the happiness in them made you warm inside.  
“I love you,” you whispered.  
He pulled you closer, kissing you just once.  
“I love you more than anything,” he said. Finally, finally for the first time in three years, you felt truly, actually happy. He was back, he was in your arms, and he was yours - and he loved you.


End file.
